


Death Business

by kokokikikyu (soseji)



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Multi, Slurs, important other pairings that will only be mentioned at the end of the fic.
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-18
Updated: 2015-06-09
Packaged: 2018-03-23 12:35:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3768814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soseji/pseuds/kokokikikyu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sehun's time is ticking. Zitao holds the stopwatch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

The room was vast and, in Zitao’s personal opinion, bland. Of course, it would have been more artistic with, say, leopard-printed carpet but it wasn’t his place to complain. Absent-mindedly, he strutted towards enormous book shelf which towered over him by 3 feet and randomly picked a book.

Tale of Death, he read. He chuckled. Did they even need this? What else was there left to know?

“Interested?”

Zitao whipped his head around to the sound and found Kim Joonmyeon smiling at him from the doorway.

“Please. This,” Zitao lifted the book, its cover facing his companion, “is useless.”

“Don’t say things about a book you haven’t read.” He reprimanded him. There was no edge in his voice, just calmness that could only be possessed after centuries being in his position.

Zitao shrugged and put the book back. “I was sleeping when you called.” He stared pointedly, “thought you should know.”

“That’s why I did it.”

“What? Joonmahao,” he whined.

Joonmyeon smiled affectionately at the nickname. “I’ve been too lenient with you, Taozi. Your last job was what, two months ago? Vacation is over and it’s time for a new Assignment.”

With a light flick of his wrist which would have been unnoticed by untrained, mortal eyes, an envelope was brought to Zitao’s hand. He stared at it for a good minute and when he finally lifted his gaze to meet Joonmyeon’s, his face showed confusion.

“Black?”

“Black.”

Zitao waited for further explanation but got none. Frowning, he decided to open the envelope and pulled out the paper from inside. The content was common; there was no abnormality in them. But there must be something he didn’t know because what he was reading and the colour of the envelope didn’t match.

Zitao faintly heard a low 'swoosh'. “What did he do?” 

“It’s what he will do.” Joonmyeon was now standing by his huge desk, sipping his tea leisurely.

“He doesn’t look like a bad person.” Zitao reasoned.

“I didn’t say that he was, Taozi, and indeed, he’s not.”

He groaned. When would his superior stop being so cryptic? Did he enjoy it? What, did he really think it would make him look more mysterious and cool? Zitao pouted childishly, feeling unsatisfied because all he got from Joonmyeon’s mouth were silly riddles with zero explanation.

“Now, what are you waiting for? Go. I’ll see you in three months time.”

Zitao rolled his eyes but snapped his fingers, nonetheless. The envelope then began to evaporate into light, bluish fog; gliding smoothly around his covered right hand before finally threaded through the glove’s molecular crevices and dissolved completely. Figured that there was nothing more he could do to coax his higher-up, Zitao was ready to leave until Joonmyeon’s voice stopped him.

“Are you going to keep dressing like that?” he suddenly sounded tired and concerned and naggy.

Zitao grinned. “Yes.”

“Why don’t you dress more, I don’t know, accordingly? You look like a front man of some shady rock band.”

“I refuse to wear shirt, bowtie, and suspender like Baekhyun-hyung if that’s what you want. Besides, it doesn’t go well with the leather glove we’re wearing.”

With a final smirk he disappeared, leaving with a puff of black smoke for dramatic effects.

Staring at now the empty spot, Joonmyeon sighed. “He doesn’t know Baekhyun wears hanbok now.”

 

* * *

 

Zitao scanned the apartment building with contempt. Did Joonma trick him? Did the building actually have the right to stay exist like this? Was this actually a mass soul-reaping because it sure seemed like the place contained too much germs, sickness, and negative auras?

Was there anyone even willing to live here?

The apartment was three-storey high with walls painted in ugly, dirty yellow. What he was sure once upon a time is a bicycle parking lot was now an empty space with wild grass and towers of electronic junk.

Clicking his tongue, Zitao decided that it wasn’t important. He wasn’t here to be an interior design critic; he was here because he had a soul to take. (He tried to ignore the small voice that reminded him he was going to basically live here for three months so whom was he trying to fool?).

With a heavy, exaggerated sigh, he disappeared.

… And appeared in a place that surprised him a bit.

For a unit placed in a horrid building like this, his Assignment’s place wasn’t all that bad. Maybe it was the way every thing was in its place, maybe it was how the owner still managed to have his belongings organized and clean, maybe it was just three stems of lilies in a boring, basic vase.

Or maybe it was the fact that the instant he emerged, he was greeted by the soft orange gradations that was sunset peeping shyly from outside the window.

Zitao used to love sunset; it reminded him of home, where all the free-from-duty Assigneds would gather and eat peach together while bitching and complaining about their former Assignments. But ever since there had been only the two of them, Zitao found himself wasn’t fond of sunset all that much.

He was grateful for Baekhyun-hyung, though, who would drag him onto the White Hill without failing, to reminisce about the day they were purified and be stripped down from any Strings that tied them to anything from their supposed life.

Zitao took a good look into his surroundings. The room wasn’t much decorated. No favourite band posters, no calendars, not even photos. Only a photograph of cherry blossom trees inside a wooden frame. There was no bedroom, only an old-looking mattress against a wall covered by pastel-coloured wallpaper. Directly across the bed was a door led to a bathroom, Zitao believed.

‘This is not bad,’ Zitao mused. The owner obviously didn’t have money but he took a serious, good care of this place.

He dragged his steps towards the window. It was hard to believe there was a place this murky in the heart of Seoul. Surrounded by a glamourous, modern life, this apartment building looked so irrelevant, so small; almost a disgrace to the otherwise a perfect city. Zitao wondered if this building would soon be demolished.

And then Zitao heard it, a subdued noise of shoes stepping on the ground. The sound was nearer and nearer, and then the door was opened.

In front of Zitao was now standing a boy. He was tall and slim with long limbs that looked awkward on him. He was wearing his winter uniform, a worn out royal blue sweater outside his white shirt, red-striped tie was askew. He sported platinum blonde locks, slightly wavy and his forehead was covered by the bangs. His skin was milky white, looking so soft and smooth to touch.

However, he also noticed a fading purplish bruise in the corner of his pink lips. He smirked.

Oh Sehun, his Assignment

 

* * *

 

His day didn’t go well. Not that it ever had, but today took the cake.

Sehun limply walked while his fingertips gently nursing the back of his head and feeling the bump that was starting to form there. Another score and his lips hadn’t even been healed yet.

Maybe he could go to hospital tomorrow. He hoped his mother wouldn’t mind.

He fished the key out of his pants pocket and unlocked the door to his only safe haven, planning to sleep his life away—at least until he saw morning again to go through another shitty day. He just wanted to close his eyes and forget. That is, until he saw someone lounging lazily inside his apartment.

Sehun narrowed his eyes and the stranger, upon realising his presence, averted his gaze away from the sunset. Eyes calm, as if he was expecting Sehun all along. Sehun didn’t like the vibe emanating from the guy.

“Get out.”

A figure clad in biker jacket and dark jeans ripped in the knees and thighs only quirked his eyebrow. His piercings glinted sharply, illuminated by the sunset.

“Didn’t even ask for my name?” It came out more like an expression of amusement than a real question.

“I don’t want to. Just get out.”

The stranger feigned contemplation.

“Mmm… Nope.” He hopped from the windowsill and jumped onto the bed—Sehun’s bed— sprawling his body like he was enjoying it. Maybe he did.

“I’ll call the security downstairs.”

His threat only met with a cat-like smirk from bow-shaped lips because please, what security was he talking about? The stranger only craned his head back further to see Sehun’s face better. “I’d love to see you try, Oh Sehun.”

Sehun furrowed his brow at this and Zitao knew he was fighting a battle inside, though from his eyes it was clear he still had that steel will to not asking questions.

“You know, if you have questions just shoot. Cave in to your curiosity doesn’t make you the lose party.”

Sehun didn’t answer and Zitao tried his best to school his expression into a patient and understanding façade albeit he was scoffing and sneering inside the head. This was what humans were formed with: a stupid, unnecessary pride and arrogance.

“What are you?”

Sehun’s first inquiry threw him off the loop.

“Wow, that’s… rude? I mean, whoever starts a conversation like that?” 

“Cut it out. Just tell me what you are and what you want to do with me.”

Zitao blinked and warily eyed Sehun from his upside down position on the mattress. Slowly he rolled over, got up, and walked to Sehun’s direction with a grace could only be found in feline’s gait. To his credit, Sehun didn’t back down.

“Be good to me because I’ll be with you for the next three months and after that,” Zitao smiled but it looked strangely morbid, “you’ll be dead.”

To his utter dismay, Sehun only looked slightly intrigued. Then he scoffed. “What nonsense is this?”

To say that Zitao was offended was a true understatement. Sehun’s gaze and body language spelled out condescending out loud and that made him decide that this filthy human didn’t deserve subtlety. A harsh, raw truth was what he was going to hear.

“This is not a nonsense, Ignoramus. You only have ninety days left to life before I ripped your soul on, oh,” Zitao mocked him with a cheery expression that looked too cruel, “your birthday.”

Zitao winked. “What a nice coincidence ey, to die on the day you were born.”


	2. One

He had lived 19 decades of not-life, with most of them as a reaper. He was considered very young in his community alright, but that didn’t mean the number speaks nonsense. For reaper his age, the number of Assignment he had under his belt was impressive and so he liked to think, with all the experience he had, that he already had encountered all kind of humans.

He had known a man spending the rest of what little time he had to be an evangelist.

He had witnessed a woman being suicidal after finding about her fate.

He had watched a teenager going through his three months, righting all the wrongdoings he had committed.

He never saw an Assignment accept the news and went on with his life as if nothing had happened.

He had never met one like Oh Sehun.

Having no other options, Oh Sehun had believed of what Zitao was and what he was going to do to him after being choked lightly with his uniform tie with Zitao watching two meters away from him; eyes twinkled with cruel amusement.

Zitao had expected a dramatic outburst or maybe a bit of waterworks, but was unpleasantly surprised by the lack of reaction.

“That’s it? No begging for more time?” Zitao remembered asking.

Oh Sehun with his back on him answered in a short and calm: “will it be granted?”

Zitao frowned. “No.”

“Then what’s the point?”

“You could at least try.”

“Trying won’t score you anything.”

With regret, Zitao had realised that getting Oh Sehun as an Assignment was the most boring thing in all seven planes of existence. His life was just as flat as his facial expression —if not more. He’d wake up at precisely 5 am to wash himself and do some little chores before he was off to school at 7 am sharp. Then he came home at 5 after helping some elderly selling soondae bokkeum at Namdaemun market.

He had once followed Oh Sehun to school, wondering how he was like around the people he knew but to his disappointment, his day was exactly as mundane as he thought it would be. So Zitao left before the recess because the ability of watching something so boring didn’t exist in him.

There were times, though, when Oh Sehun came home a bit too late and looked particularly exhausted. When that happened, he would just lie down on his mattress, waiting until sleep takes him.

Zitao noticed that it rarely did and only when Oh Sehun was deprived of sleep they’d talk.

“I thought you were going to be beside me, watching me. Joined at the hip with me, metaphorically speaking.”

“I don’t need to do that.”

“Why? Do you already have some kind of buzzer that if I did something bad, you’d know?”

Zitao stared at Sehun’s back from his position on the window sill. “Basically, yes. Every living being has a life thread and right now, yours is tied with my fingers, literally—though you can’t see it.”

Zitao glanced at the clock on Sehun’s small desk. Seven past two.

“What does life thread look like?” He heard Sehun asking quietly.

Inconsciously, Zitao lifted his uncovered hand. “Red and vibrant, just like what a life is supposed to be.”

“How does it feel?”

“Pulsating. And warm.”

“Just like what life is supposed to be?”

Zitao took his time to answer by watching Sehun from where he was sitting. Tall and skinny, his thin wool sweater didn’t do a good job preventing him from shaking in cold. “Yeah,” he conceded. “Just like what life is supposed to be.”

 

* * *

 

But they were not friends, far from it.

Firstly, because Oh Sehun was not what humans would call ‘friendly’. He wasn’t designed to be anyone’s friend. He was far too quiet and reserved and had tongue that cut deeper than a blade and above all, he had an appearance that was a very fitting, a very telling shell to contain all those qualities about him— That, and because reapers were strongly advised not to have any attachment towards their Assignments to prevent any unwanted happening.

_Not that it had never happened before,_ Zitao thought as he was watching Sehun’s back. 

This was their routine. They would walk together (not together-together) with Zitao a few steps behind him as Sehun’s back figure and gait made themselves familiar to his brain. Then after ten minutes of walking, they would part ways; Sehun to school and Zitao to wherever he wanted to go that day. There was no reason behind the new habit, just that Zitao didn’t want to bore himself to death (or something, since he had never really lived so) and he liked to start his day from early morning. It fitted with Sehun’s life rhythm so it was just all about convenience.

Today was unusually warm, Zitao noted. And in a winter like this, this was a much welcomed surprise. Other pedestrians seemingly shared the same sentiment with him if lighter steps and easy smiles were any indications.

But of course, his Assignment just had to be an exception. Sehun had been rubbing his arms every now then, discreetly, as if he didn’t want Zitao or anyone to see—which was just stupid considering the reaper was right behind him.

Zitao shook his head in disbelief. Was he really that prideful?

“Oi, Board Face. Is it cold? Have no one to hug?” he started taunting his Assignment.

“Shut up.”

Zitao laughed with glee, saying “People are looking at you. I won again.”

It was a game for Zitao. He would taunt and generally say stupid things just to bug Sehun and waited until he snap and make people around think he was talking to himself, since they couldn’t see Zitao.

Sehun quickened his pace, arms back to hugging his waist.

“Don’t worry, nobody will take a pity on you. Just shiver freely.” Zitao called out. Sehun turned around.

“What?” he asked. Zitao just clicked his tongue, eyes asquint in belittling manner.

“Never mind.”

Sehun was about to continue his walk when he heard Zitao half-shouted, “Oi, Board Face!”

He omitted a small grunt but didn’t stop to face Zitao.

“I see you never go to school with friends.” Zitao commented, voice so light and airy as if he was asking about pets. “But of course we can always blame it on the fact that you have none.”

“Whatever. I don’t need one.”

Zitao laughed with scorn evident in his tone. “People should have known by now that that kind of answer is just predictable and boring. Not to mention it’s like spelling out pretentious with bold, red letters on a stark white banner. No one can live alone.”

Sehun didn’t say anything to rebut. He just looked straight ahead and fastened his pace.

Zitao followed him by skipping merrily, his mouth let out a high-pitched whistle.

They were walking in silence for an annoying minute that he almost decided that Sehun would never respond to his latest jab until he heard it.

“I’ve been living my life alone for years. I think I’ll be fine.”

Zitao stopped in his step and watched Sehun’s back getting further away from his sight.

He didn’t like Oh Sehun. But with disconcerting realization, Zitao found out that somehow he dislike the way his Assignment lower his head even more.

 

* * *

 

“I know you’ve been looking for him.”

It was midnight and the wind was cruelly cold.

Zitao sat on the apartment rooftop’s fence, long legs dangling dangerously. If people could see him, they’d probably be shouting at him by now, cajoling him to rethink whatever it was on his mind and said that there were more life could offer.

“Is it only me, though?” Zitao asked. Feline-like eyes gazing beyond the horizon. Seoul at midnight was a sight to behold. The lights were still lit, making it seemed like the stars had decided to switch place with the living and be alive on the ground instead. And of course, no human in sight which was always a plus.

“I’ve found him.”

Zitao stiffened before slowly gave Baekhyun his full attention.

“Where?”

“Promise me you won’t go find him.”

Zitao laughed rudely. “You know I will.”

“Then promise me he won’t see your face.” Baekhyun’s pointy chin was on his chest. He looked so small, so fragile, and the yellow hanbok he was wearing looked like swallow him fully.

“I’m not that cruel.”

 

* * *

 

He still maintained his honey-coloured skin. His face still looked like he was caught in between being a timid kid and a menacing teenager. Separated by the counter was a ridiculously long queue, mostly formed by girls.

“Tsk. You gotta need a better strategy to stalk than this, you know.”

Zitao pulled back from the scene across the street and meet the eyes of a very pretty young man. The said young man was currently sitting beside him, completely ignoring the fact that no one had invited him, much less a materialized reaper who was on duty and wished to be left alone.

“I can teach you a few tricks, foolproof. They worked wonder on me.” He told him seriously, like they were talking about Zitao’s decision about what major he should choose for his master degree. Zitao grimaced.

“No, thank you.” Zitao refused. “And I’m not stalking.”

“Do you smoke?”

“Do you see me smoking?”

“Then what are you doing here, in our smoking area? You’ve been eyeing that Subway employee for thirty minutes and your hot chocolate might as well be frosted chocolate by now. In the world we’re living in, that’s called ‘stalking’.”

Zitao only blinked his eyes. The intruder didn’t even wear his name tag which Zitao believed was a violation of some sort because customers couldn’t file a complaint about anyone without knowing the name.

“Leave him alone, Hannie.”

There was a new face coming into the scene. This time, it was of a child-like appearance with slightly flushed, chubby cheeks and small teeth. A pair of almond-shaped eyes staring at him.

“I’m sorry if he’s been bothering you.”

Zitao’s eyes wandered and they found it, the name tag. _Kim Minseok._

“Your employee is kind of a busybody, yes.”

Kim Minseok laughed.

“Agree about the busybody part and disagree about the rest. This man right here,” his thumb pointed at the other man, “is my husband.”

Zitao blinked. His gaze moved back and forth between the two pretty men. Kim Minseok still beamed at him while ‘Hannie’ had this challenging expression addressed towards Zitao, as if he dared him to say anything inappropriate about it.

Oh, how Zitao would so deliver.

“I think you could have done better, Minseok-sshi.”

Minseok burst out laughing with ‘Hannie’ shouted an indignant ‘yah’.

 

* * *

 

Zitao knew before the door was opened.

“Evening.” Sehun’s soft voice greeted him.

Zitao hummed, back turned on his Assignment and his focus entirely on the morning newspaper. He enjoyed it; reading outdated news in front of the window, with his only light being soothing orange beam emanated by the sun

After he had found Jongin, his routine had been altered. He no longer walked with Sehun three footsteps ahead of him in the morning and he no longer waited outside the soondae stall Sehun worked part time in every Wednesday and Friday. He also never accompanied Sehun to the hospital anymore.

Sehun never questioned it.

Zitao heard the bathroom door creaked open and only after nearly twenty minutes later did Sehun come out of it.

“Is this a special evening or what? You pampered yourself in there?” Zitao drawled. _Girl Committed Suicide after Rejected from KAIST_ , the news on page 7 wrote. Zitao clucked his tongue. Bet the reaper wasn’t informed about it. That was the thing about suicide; no reaper had been assigned to you for your time of death wasn’t even close. As a result, the No Longer-Human had no one to assist him or her to the afterlife and Zitao knew that wouldn’t be pretty.

“What?”

“You took forever in the bathroom.”

Sehun didn’t respond to him and Zitao just didn’t give a rat’s ass.

After he had finished his reading session and was looking for a crosswords puzzle he had found early this morning, Zitao realised that the world behind his shoulders was awfully quiet. He turned around and found Sehun already lied down on his mattress, face towards the wall. His broad shoulders slightly hunched and he looked like he was trying to stick his bony knees to his chest.

His puzzle was crushed underneath Sehun’s body.

Without saying anything more than ‘you’re sleeping on my crosswords’, he marched towards the mattress and pushed Sehun’s shoulder blade to retrieve his much wanted entertainment for tonight, only to be stopped by a low gasp.

Zitao didn’t remove his hand right away but Sehun scooted a little.

“I’m sorry.” Sehun apologized; voice was just above a whisper.

Instead of pulling out the paper, Zitao pushed Sehun’s shoulder tentatively, but definitely harder that before.

Sehun whimpered.

“Turn around.”

“No.”

“I said, turn around.”

“I’m very sleepy.”

“Sehun.”

Sehun froze a bit, knowing it was the first time Zitao addressed him with his name. And maybe that worked because he found himself relenting.

And Zitao swore under his breath.

“I’m going to sleep, now.” Sehun was starting to face away from Zitao again.

“Who did this?”

_This_ being a nasty mixture of blue and green on Sehun’s face; scattered like a random colouring made by a child. There was also a bruise under his right eye and the skin in the far corner of his eyebrow was cut open.

Sehun shook his head. “Just a bunch of kids.”

Zitao scoffed at his bullcrap.

“Who did this?” he repeated.

“I… you don’t know them. Doesn’t matter.”

It was obvious the reaper had none of Sehun’s nonsense. With a gentle but firm grip, Zitao’s uncovered hand reached for Sehun’s chin and lifted it. He noticed Sehun shivered from the act.

“Some of these aren’t even new.” It was a statement and Sehun didn’t know how to say to that. “Open your t-shirt.”

After Sehun did what he was told, Zitao felt his mouth dry and his heart stung. Sehun’s otherwise pale, blemish-free body was now a wreck. Blues and greens were everywhere along with swollen skin here and there.

“Can I sleep now?” Sehun had always been soft-spoken, but this time his voice had managed to throw Zitao back to the reality.

Never answering back, Zitao only stood up and walked out.

Had Zitao snuck back in, he would have seen Sehun back on his previous position with eyes shut and bitten, trembling lips.

 

* * *

 

“You’re so quiet today.”

“I have always been, Han-sshi. I speak only because you asked.”

Lu Han made a ‘tut-tut’ sound. “Don’t talk like that to your elder.”

It had become a daily occurrence now. Zitao would always choose a seat in smoking area because only that way he could watch Jongin clearly and every twenty minutes, Lu Han would come to his seat and started to prove the world that he really was a busybody.

His husband would ‘retrieve’ him every single time and engaged Zitao in small but pleasant exchange of words before apologizing and dragged Lu Han back to the counter.

“I don’t know what your problem is, Zitao. Just cross the street and say hi to him.”

If only it was that easy.

“I just need to know that he’s fine with his life here on earth—I mean, Seoul. He, uh, he comes from the countryside.”

“That’s so thoughtful of you. Does he know?”

“That I’m here? No, I don’t wish him to—“

“No, that you love him.”

“I—what?” Zitao turned his head so fast. His eyes widened and mouth opened in incredulity.

Lu Han shrugged his shoulders casually. “Did I say something wrong?”

“Well, yes.” Zitao nearly shouted in disbelief. “If you mean romantically, then… Oh, God. That’s gross. He’s practically my brother by blood and besides, I can't feel that way for anyone.”

Lu Han just stared.

“I really don’t care if you don’t believe my words.” Zitao rolled his eyes.

“But I do believe your words. Most of them.”

“Okay. Whatever. I’m waiting for your husband to take you back to the counter and tend to the customers.”

“That’s rude.” Lu Han pulled Zitao’s ear like a mother would do his poor-mannered son. “This is my coffee sho—well, my husband’s but that’s the same, so I will do whatever I want to do. And if that includes harassing a creepy customer with such stupid sense of fashion, then so be it.”

No. No, no, no. If there was one thing that Zitao wouldn’t take well, that would be people looking down to his styling.

“Excuse you?”

“Yeah, like, what kind of person only wears half pair of gloves? That looks stupid. That _is_ stupid.” Lu Han dictated. His nose turned up.

“Only the people of high fashion will get the appeal.”

They continued to bicker until Minseok did his usual (and new) habit but today, he brought Zitao a slice of complimentary Strawberry Curd which to him was worth the shenanigans he had suffered.

Later that evening, he came back to Sehun’s bleeding head.

 

* * *

 

Maybe today, Lu Han would miss him (or miss messing with him). Today, Minseok’s hot chocolate supplies would run out in a slower pace because Zitao didn’t visit Eastern Deer Coffee and Cakes.

Last night Sehun had arrived earlier than he usually would. Zitao could smell the scent of lemongrass from him, indicating Sehun had taken a shower before and Zitao could see his chest moving up and down, breathing rather irregularly. His forehead was wet from sweat.

And his pillow was scarlet red.

Tenderly, as to not wake Sehun up, he touched his hair to search for the wound which was easy because of the hair colour his Assignment had been sporting. There, on the right side near the top of his head, a long gash, maybe 4 centimeters top, was what he had found. The scar was poorly tended, if at all, and there was a small bald spot from where his hair had been pulled by brute strength.

_“You’re back.” Sehun said softly. And, “oh. This… this was nothing.”_

Zitao thinned his lips.

_“The ahjumma gave me soondae bokkeum leftover. Have you eaten?”_

Shaking his head, Zitao was back to the present; where Sehun was walking three steps ahead of him, head down and shoulders slouching. To Sehun’s knowledge, Zitao was out to his new routine which didn’t involve him anymore from the dawn until later in the evening.

Sehun didn’t know, and he didn’t need to. Zitao wanted to find out himself.

 

* * *

 

The first time Zitao did it in front of him, Sehun stared with surprise mixed with a drop of wonder.

“You can do that?” Sehun almost whispered, eyes slightly widen with poorly veiled awe.

“What, materialize? Of course I can.” Zitao answered smugly.

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why do you do this?”

Zitao refused to meet Sehun’s gaze. “Because I want to, dumbass. I’m handsome and being admired because I’m handsome feels great, so why not?”

Of course he was lying and he was suspicious Sehun knew it.

Before this day, Zitao would insult or throw jabs at Sehun in purpose. He would try his damnedest to rile him up. He had succeeded a few times (fewer than Zitao would have loved) and every time, Sehun would snap at him only to cover his mouth later for caught dead talking to himself. Before this day, Zitao would feel like he had won some award or whatever, to see Oh Sehun humiliate himself, but he began to notice people would not only rudely point a finger at Sehun but also say something very cruel.

_“I told you he was crazy.”_

_“I know, right? Talk to no one like that…”_

_“Poor boy. That’s what happens if you have a mental mother.”_

_“Is mental illness genetic?”_

Zitao hated those hags and how their sons treat Sehun. Those nosy, pathetic ahjummas wouldn’t know, would pretend not to know, that their sons they were so proud of were nothing but losers who picked on the weaker at school. They’d turn a blind eye and opted not to acknowledge that the bruises and cuts on Sehun’s delicate face were their offspring’s undoing.

“Is the cause of my death because I’m beaten?” Sehun asked him one day. There was no self-pity nor desperation in that voice; only pure curiosity.

But Zitao felt like needles were prickling his heart. “No.”

At least he was being honest.

 

* * *

 

“Little fag finally found himself a boyfriend.”

Zitao opened one eye and sun light was instantly blinding him. He decided that Sehun’s school rooftop was the best place to take a nap. However, he wasn’t at all happy with the disturbance he was currently experiencing. Didn’t these kids have any other place to be obnoxious?

“I always see him walking you to school these days.”

“Sooo~ Is he your boyfriend or a bodyguard?”

Boisterous laughter filled Zitao’s hearing. He crinkled his nose in disgust.

“How could he afford a bodyguard, Jinhee? He probably sells his body just to have a spoonful of rice.”

Another crude comments followed. And then another. And another.

Zitao’s heartbeat quickened; his five senses were on alert fully, now. All traces of grogginess were gone. Was it—

“Yoonsuk, Yoonsuk! Did you hear? Did you hear? The fag said he sells his body to your mother!”

“What?! Say that again, homo!”

When he was on his feet, ready to kill some deserving assholes, it was too late. He saw Sehun’s lip bleeding and his dyed blond hair waspulled harshly by one of the boys.

Zitao never thought he would ever feel a rage this blinding.

“Don’t touch him.” He warned calmly, deadly. Every body now looked at him, including Sehun with unreadable eyes.

“Oh, the boyfriend is coming to rescue the faggot princess.”

He didn’t waste another second to maul them and only finished when they were in a brink of death, just because.

 

* * *

 

Sehun didn’t come to his 3rd period that day. Zitao didn’t allow him.

“Zitao…”

It was the first time he heard Sehun call him by his name. He didn’t know what to feel but he didn’t have the time to ponder because the long arms around his neck tightened slightly. Warm breath tickled the side of his neck and sharp chin dug into his shoulder.

“Thank you.” His whisper was shaky.

There was no reply from Zitao, only a pair of hands softly squeezed Sehun’s calves on the side of his thighs as he kept walking, piggybacking Sehun all the way to his apartment.

 

* * *

 

They were by no means best friends at this stage, but there was a silent, mutual understanding. Zitao thought maybe it was only about starting with the wrong foot, but as the days went by, he found himself see Oh Sehun as he was; a person, not some living being whose soul he was assigned to take.

“What is that?” Zitao asked as Sehun put down his tray.

People began to notice Zitao’s visible presence. How, he didn’t know, but the news about him beating the life out of Sehun’s bullies traveled at the lightning speed. It had made them a bit nicer to him, though nobody was still willing to start a conversation with the blond young man.

But Sehun didn’t mind because at least, he didn’t have to eat his lunch in the bathroom anymore.

(Sehun said this with a bright face which killed Zitao’s inside because he didn’t know, he never knew there were times where Sehun was forced to eat in place where the food was supposed to be dumped, not digested)

“Oh, this—“

Zitao’s hand was already grabbing the paper. “Seoul National University?”

Sehun shoved his kimbab down his throat to cover up his embarrassment. “Shin-seonsaengnim gave it to me.”

“I had had several Assignments from SNU.” Zitao rubbed his chin. “Do you want to try? I mean, you’re pretty smart, from what I know.”

‘Pretty smart’ didn’t even begin to cover Sehun’s intelligence. With all kinds of limitations life had given him, Sehun still managed to be a top student, with grades the highest among his peers.

“Don’t be silly. Where will I get all the money to pay the tuition?”

“Scholarship?”

“They don’t give scholarship to someone just because they are ‘pretty smart’. Besides, I won’t be living that long, remember?”

Zitao tried his best not to look at Sehun’s face though he knew if he did, he wouldn’t see any negative emotions on it.

“Entertain me just this one time, okay. What major would you like to take?”

Beside him, Sehun swallowed his food and after seconds put down his chopstick altogether.

“Sehun?”

“I want,” he gulped, eyes downcast. “I want to be a doctor.”

Zitao watched as his Assignment turn quiet for a moment before he lifted his Assignment’s chin so that he could look him in the eye.

“Well, Oh Sehun-paksanim has a nice ring to it.”

Eyes turned into crescents and the smile blossomed on Sehun’s face then was so wide and bright it took Zitao’s breath away.

 


	3. Two

“Where were you?” Sehun asked as soon as Zitao stepped into Sehun’s tiny apartment.

After two weeks of making sure no one had any more guts to bully Sehun—a week as visible-Zitao and another week as an unseen reaper, Zitao had gone back to his regular activity; watching Jongin from afar and being the sole source of entertainment for Lu Han in his husband’s coffee shop.

“Out. Looking for fresh air,” Zitao shrugged then he squint his eyes upon seeing pamphlets scattered on Sehun’s small desk. “What are those?”

Sehun blinked at him, confused, before he finally gathered the papers in a manner of cartel boss caught by the police when doing business.

“Nothing,” he answered. Zitao only furrowed his brows deeper because Sehun never stuttered.

However he said nothing and instead threw himself on the mattress.

“You smell like coffee and smoke.” Sehun said with small voice, back still turned on him. “You’ve been like this for weeks, you know.”

“I know. You noticed?” Zitao wasn’t even surprised.

“Where were you?”

Zitao took his time to answer. “Ilsan.”

“That’s pretty far.” Sehun murmured, “You always came home with a sad face afterwards. What was there in Ilsan?”

 _Home._  The term nudged something inside Zitao’s heart. This sorry excuse for a living quarter meant nothing to him. Sehun shouldn’t have said it like that.

“Did I?”

“Longing. There’d be longing in your eyes. What happened? What did you see? Who… who did you see?”

Zitao gazed at the view outside the window from where he was laying down. The skies were pitch black; there were no stars and he couldn’t even see the moon. Maybe Seoul’s polluted air was the culprit, or maybe simply because those sources of light refuse to show themselves tonight.

He didn’t seem like he was listening to Sehun but then he ran his fingers through his jet-black hair and asking in a soft voice, “have you ever felt like you just want to hug somebody and tell them that every thing’s fine but you can’t?”

Sehun bit his lower lip. Zitao couldn’t see it of course, could only hear the sound of Sehun’s scribbling. The paper then sounded like it ripped a bit.

“No.” He finally answered. “… Have you?”

“Every day.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“… Is this what your Ilsan visits all about?”

“… Yeah.”

 

 

* * *

 

Eastern Deer Coffee and Cakes was a deserted but pretty place in the morning. Sunlight would hit the window just right for the reflection to disperse into all the crooks and nooks and every corner of the room. The owners refused to play trendy songs but preferred bossanova and sometimes blues or, on Lu Han’s whimsical days, the instrumental versions of his favourite anime soundtracks.

People, however, would opt to have the take away rather than stay and enjoy the relaxing ambiance this place offered. Zitao liked it that way. He wasn’t too fond of human, afterall.

“So I heard that Subway employee is not your crush or ex or whatever,” Minseok was delivering his usual hot chocolate when he asked Zitao the question.

Zitao wasn’t even surprised and he just arched one of his eyebrows at the sight of Lu Han scrubbing the counter uselessly in a rigorous manner; obviously trying hard not to look like he was eavesdropping, leaving Zitao wondered how that big kid had managed to woo Minseok.

“Yes. He’s a friend of mine and a dear one at that.”

“Then bring him here. He can have a hot chocolate and it’ll be on the house.” Minseok offered and at that time Zitao pondered if the man was even real.

“And why would you do that?”

“Because I like having you here, providing my husband a good distraction. Think of that as my gratitude to you.”

Zitao snorted a little. “Thank you, Minseok-sshi—“

“—Hyung,” Minseok interjected cheerfully.

“Hyung,” Zitao corrected himself. “But I can’t do that.”

“Why?” they heard Lu Han shouted from his position. “Does he not like hot chocolate?”

Lu Han was one silly young man, Zitao finally decided. After weeks Zitao had visited this coffee shop, it finally dawned upon him how Lu Han had never been seen working. Brewing and serving were done by his husband and his employees. Lu Han would usually just lounge around; occasionally kissing his husband’s cheeks or just bothering Zitao by throwing ‘wise words’ at him, treated him like he was Lu Han’s kid brother who needed advice all the time.

“Well?” Minseok inquired. “Does he not?”

“He doesn’t hate it, that’s for sure.”

“Then why can’t you?”

Zitao spun the mug gently, tracing the cute image of cartoonish deer along with the words ‘coffee and cakes’.

“Because seeing my presence, I’m afraid, will hurt his feelings and remind him of what he had lost.”

Lu Han folded his arms in front of his chest. “You know what? You couldn’t be any more cryptic if you tried. Like, the heck was that supposed to mean?”

Zitao opened his mouth but then thought better. “You know? What are you doing here exactly, Lu Han-sshi? You’re not exactly helping your husband.”

“Aren’t you smooth at changing subjects?” Lu Han quipped. “And just so you know, it’s not like I don’t want to help. Baozi just wouldn’t let me.”

“I can imagine why.”

“Why you little—“ Lu Han gripped the back of his neck and let out a loud ‘augh’. “This kid’s not good for my health.”

They both then watched Lu Han go upstairs that served as their residence. He cited something about the urgency of a good rest when it was obvious he didn’t need one, seeing how he did nothing in the last two hours Zitao had been sitting here.

“You spoil him.” Zitao commented lightly, eyes peering carefully at Minseok to see if his words had offended the human.

They didn’t. Minseok only smiled warmly at him but there was something else in his eyes.

“I do. I wanted to.”

“Are you afraid he’d break mugs and glasses if he tried to help you around?” Zitao intended it to be a joke, but as he asked the question he realized it was actually a possibility.

Minseok shook his head. “My money alone is more than enough to buy the inventories for the second branch—not that I want to build one. Besides, Han is not clumsy. He won’t accidentally spill or break things.”

“I see. It’s all what, love, then?”

“It was our first, little steps in building this coffee shop. We didn’t have employees so we were forced to do all the tasks by ourselves. Long story short, he had a little kitchen accident which I believe was insignificant to everybody else, but it was enough for me to make sure he would never have to go through the same thing again.”

And Lu Han said Zitao was cryptic.

“How long have you guys been together?”

Minseok furrowed his brows. “I can’t quite remember. We have always been together for so long our relationship might as well older than anyone’s grandma.”

Zitao snorted. “That’s cheesy in a twisted way, hyung.”

Minseok laughed his signature gummy smile; fox eyes crinkling with joy and, Zitao mused, mischievousness.

“Enough about me. So what’s your love life like, Tao-ya?”

 _Love life_ , Zitao thought derisively. He didn’t have a life, much less a love-themed one.

“I have no such thing.”

“No way.”

“Yes way.”

“Are you, by chance, a picky person?”

“It’s most definitely not the reason as to why I have such a boring life.”  _Or life, period_. “I’m just not capable of having such feeling.”

Minseok pursed his lips. “Don’t underestimate yourself, you just haven’t met The One yet.”

Zitao wanted to laugh at that but Minseok was just very nice and sweet and he didn’t want to be an asshole to this one human. But the idea itself was indeed laughable. What was it that humans define as ‘The One’? You didn’t have The One; no one did. It was a stupid concept. That red string crap? It was a bogus; an idea conceived to comfort the mortals that there was someone for each one of them, waiting to unite and ride off to the sunset together while in reality, they were born and died alone.

The only red string Zitao had ever seen was that of a Reaper’s and his Assignment.

“No, I just wasn’t made for that.”

“Or,” Minseok started to get up; hands shoved into the front pockets of his apron “it hasn’t happened to you yet.”  


 

* * *

 

How long had it been, a week? Two weeks? Sehun hadn’t come home with bruises anymore now so it looked like the bullies had learnt the lesson he had given them. But he also would be in his pathetic apartment way later than usual. He no longer brought home  _soondae bokkeum_  leftovers which kinda saddened Zitao because he liked the taste of it.

They didn’t talk to each other, not so much. Zitao would see him at 8 or 9 in the evening and Sehun was already exhausted by then that he would sleep right away.

Zitao didn’t want to know why and how he realised it, but Sehun’s skin looked noticeably tanner.

“I brought tangsuyuk, if you want.” Sehun told him the other night.

“No more soondae bokkeum?” Zitao asked, half-jokingy half-seriously.

Sehun shook his head. “No, I’m sorry. Do you like it so much?”

“The taste isn’t so bad.”

The next day, there was a plate full of warm soondae bokkeum on the table. Sehun was nowhere to be found.

 

 

* * *

 

“I thought you weren’t going to come,” Lu Han wailed. “I almost died of boredom.”

Zitao rolled his eyes at the grand greeting.

“I thought about it. I could use one day or two without unnecessary disturbances,” he walked past Lu Han and immediately settled on his usual seat.

He stared across the street where Jongin was seen serving customers (unsurprisingly, a bunch of high school girls).

“Attitude, please. And by the way, loser, no one asked you to come here. That poor boy you’ve been stalking doesn’t even look like he’s suffering.”

Zitao just watched silently. Jongin was flashing his usual smile and he moved around with grace. Once the crowd had died down, he pulled a magazine from under the counter and started reading it. Then two high school boys entered the outlet and Jongin had this melancholy in his eyes before greeting them cheerily.

Zitao sighed.

“You don’t know that.”

“You don’t know if he’s been miserable too.”

Zitao froze.

“Why are you assuming the worst about him? Isn’t it good for him, leaving the countryside and live here instead? I mean, what are there even in the not-so developed part of South Korea? Sure, he might miss a thing or two from his previous life but why do you think he’ll lead a sad life just because of it? Why are you so… so… conceited? All this groundless angst, seriously…” Lu Han’s eyes then turned wild for a fraction of second before he looked right at Zitao. “Okay, you know what? I think  _you_  are the one who’s grieving over his supposedly loss or whatever there is in that lovely countryside of yours while your friend is fine living here.”

With that, Lu Han left Zitao alone to digest the barrage of words he just listened to.

 

 

* * *

 

Zitao didn’t visit Eastern Deer Coffee and Cakes today.

He had been thinking about what Lu Han had said, about why he was so full of it; assuming that Jongin was struggling with everything he had lost when actually Zitao didn’t have the slightest idea.

And why did Lu Han seemed so upset about that too? Zitao swore that man had never made sense.

So here he was, had finally decided to march into Sehun’s school after spending an entire morning gallivanting from one subway to another just to ‘observe’ humans and their saddening existence, only to find that Sehun wasn’t there and hadn’t been for the last week.

He could have materialized and pressed the bullies for answers, for being a probable factor as to why Sehun didn’t attend school or casually asked the female students who had ogled at him when they saw Zitao for the first time about Sehun’s absence. But he did none of those. Instead, for some reason, Zitao went back to the apartment and started to tear it apart the moment he stepped into the room. He found the answers just under the mattress.

There were sheets and sheets of ads which varied from newspaper stall keeper to chaebol’s gardener, none of them had anything to do with being a doctor or even going to college. Then he found it, the official letter from school board that stated that student Oh Sehun, age 18, could no longer attend school because he had failed to pay the tuition for five consecutive months.

There was something weird that Zitao felt deep in his heart when he figured out everything. He couldn’t tell what or even describe how it was, he just knew it wasn’t good and he hated it.

8 pm came too slowly to his liking and he didn’t waste another second when he saw Sehun entered.

“Sehun, where—“

“—the seller ahjumma feeling a bit generous today, it seems. So I brought you another soondae bokkeum but this time with extra noodle and broth.” Sehun looked up. “Oh? What were you saying?”

The words died in his mouth. All Zitao saw was Oh Sehun, garbed in his school uniform that hanging loosely from his body. Sharp angles jutted out; shoulders, elbows… His hair was mused and the black roots were starting to show, made him not so blond anymore. His pale, porcelain-like skin was gone and was replaced with reddish tan.

But he was smiling at him, crescent eyes and everything.  In his right hand were dangled two boxes of Zitao’s favourite dish and he looked so damn happy for bringing him that.

Zitao bit back the curses just on the tip of his tongue and turned his back on him. “You’re tired?”

Sehun didn’t answer him for seconds.

“Not really,” he finally responded. “Are you okay? You don’t seem so well.”

“I’m fine. Just, go take a shower already. You stink.”

Zitao could hear Sehun laughing shyly.

“I’m sorry. Let me freshen up and then we can eat this together. Okay?”

“Okay.” Zitao nodded; his voice unstable.

 

 

* * *

 

It had been going on for three days.

Sehun would come late in the evening with his school uniform which now looked a bit too big for him. Sometimes he brought food and sometimes cold milk. He’d look spent inside and out, but he would ask about Zitao’s day and never told Zitao about his.

Once, when Sehun was fast asleep, Zitao crouched down to see ugly blisters on his feet.

“I’m getting bored of  _soondae bokkeum_.” Zitao complained quietly when they were eating dinner together on the floor.

Sehun lifted his eyebrows.

“This isn’t  _soondae bokkeum_ , though.”

Zitao eyed the  _jjambong_. “No, it isn’t. I’m just saying it so you don’t have to bring me anymore of those.”

“Okay,” Sehun agreed. “What do you want, then?  _Jjajangmyeon_?”

Zitao just didn’t want to eat anymore.

“No. Don’t bring me those, too. In fact, stop giving me food. Tell me honestly, Sehun. Where have you been this past week?”

Sehun’s motion was stopped short. His hands were hanging in the air for a moment before he shoved down the food down his throat and continued eating.

“What are you talking about?”

“Are we going to play pretense, because I can do this the whole night. I found it, Sehun, the letter from your school. I also found shitty amount of job ads you’ve been hiding. Yes, you hid them because they happened to be under your bed.”

Zitao watched as Sehun tightened his hold on his chopstick.

“Where are you going with this? Are you going to scold me? You’re not even my family,” Sehun almost sounded like he was pleading. His eyes were looking anywhere but at Zitao.

“No, I’m not. And I’m not going to scold you for leaving school.”

“Then why are you being like this?”

Why? Indeed, why. Why he got so worked up over this? This was Oh Sehun’s life, however short. It was up to him what he wanted to do with it.  _Then answer him, Zitao. Why?_

“Let’s forget it,” Zitao snapped. For some strange reasons he didn’t want to think about, this made him mad. He got up from his position and walked into the front door, willing to leave Sehun to eat the dinner by himself but his Assignment’s soft voice stopped him.

“Were you worried?”

The question was out in a low voice, as if Sehun himself didn’t dare to ask it. He noticed the sentence wavered near the end, until it sounded no louder than a breath.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

Then Zitao slammed the door shut.

 

 

* * *

 

_Were you worried?_

It was 1 o’clock and Sehun was on his borrowed bike, delivering lunch to some factories and offices alike while Zitao watched over from the top of buildings, never too far from him. His Assignment only wore a baseball cap, thin masker, and a flimsy jacket which weren’t doing well enough job shielding him from smoke, emission, and chilly, spring wind. He didn’t even rest after his hours of delivering milk this morning had ended.

Zitao jumped down from the nearest ten-story office and landed swiftly to wait outside until Sehun exited the sky scraper across the street, steel containers in both his hands. He watched as Sehun basically dragged himself to sit in a bus stop and took off his hat.

He probably had pedaled for hundred kilometers this morning, Zitao guessed. His face, even from where Zitao was standing, was flushed red with drops of sweat on his smooth forehead.

_Were you worried?_

Zitao remembered his happy face when he brought home his most preferred meal and almost instantly, he felt a sting in his heart. How much did he earn a day? After buying those foods, how much of it was left? Did he even like _soondae bokkeum_? If Zitao didn’t admit that he liked it, would Sehun have bought it?

He didn’t realise when he started to but when his consciousness had came back to him, Zitao found himself walked in his Assignment’s direction, already in his human form.

“Do you want some company?”

Sehun looked up and although his face didn’t gave much away, Zitao could read them all; surprised, relieve, embarrassment, hope, and, his heart swelled with something foreign,  _happiness_.

“Zitao.”

Zitao didn’t know when he became so attuned with Sehun’s emotions.

“Aren’t you tired? Just stay here for thirty minutes, at least.” Zitao sat himself next to Sehun. “The breeze is relaxing.”

“I don’t know about that.”

“Do you still have orders to deliver?”

Sehun nodded. Four white jjajang, eight naengmyeon, six kimchi jjigae, and five japchae to three different places. Lunch hour was ending in about one hour, not giving Sehun enough time to rest his feet and take a long, deep breath.

“But…” Sehun smiled longingly, “now suddenly I just want to sit here…”

He heard him saying in that low, soft voice of his. Zitao turned his head where he could see Sehun kept his head down; his darkened hands gripped the bench tightly but his ears were flushed red.

Sehun could not see it, but Zitao returned his smile and it was rueful.

“Then stay,” Zitao told him, equally softly.

 

 

This was nice, Zitao thought as he was reveling in the way the wind gushed in the opposite direction of where Sehun’s bike was going. It was baffling how after centuries being the entity that assist humans on their last days, this was the first time Zitao rode a bike.

… Or sat on the back saddle while someone else did all the job.

“Am I heavy?” Zitao half-shouted as he leaned his head forward just enough for Sehun to hear him while he did his best in balancing the two empty containers.

Sehun laughed and Zitao grinned to himself.

“Yes, but I’m trying not to feel it.”

Zitao playfully pulled down Sehun’s hood. Sehun laughed harder.

“Stop it.”

From where he sat, he could see Sehun’s broad shoulders and how it looked so bony these days.

“Hey, Sehun?”

“What?”

With his eyes, Zitao traced the outline of Sehun’s body and marveled at how he could still smell like a baby even when doing exhausting job like this.

“Zitao?” Sehun risked a glance. “Zitao, did you ask me something?”

“Let’s take a break tomorrow. I’ll treat you a cup of hot chocolate. Now pedal faster, Sehun!”

Sehun let out a gleeful whoop and did as Zitao told.

 

 

* * *

 

 _Perhaps this is how it feels to be a human_ , Zitao thought. He then looked at his left side where Sehun stood rigidly but his eyes shone with nothing but poorly disguised excitement. The subway ride to Ilsan would take an hour and they had taken off from Suseo station and Sehun had been in weird, quiet kind of eagerness ever since.

“You may want to take a seat rather than bouncing on your feet like that, you know.” Teased Zitao.

“I’m not bouncing on my feet,” Sehun denied vehemently but couldn’t prevent the blush to appear on his face.

He had been pestering him for an entire morning about their destination, and how Zitao had the money, or how long the trip would take while Zitao would answer all of those with ‘just shut up and enjoy the whole thing.’ It didn’t escape Zitao’s eyes how Sehun seemed to glow and how he held himself just a bit straighter, feet a bit lighter in their steps. He even had to wait for ten minutes just so Sehun could get ready.

 

_“What took you so long?”_

_“I don’t have anything nicer than these to wear,” he looked like his words were directed to Zitao’s foot. “I’m sorry.”_

_And Zitao decided that from now on, he hated the words ‘I’m sorry’—especially when they came from Sehun’s mouth. So without any more words, Zitao took Sehun’s hand with his uncovered own and pulled the lanky teenager towards the door._

_“I don’t want to hear anymore of your ‘sorry’, Sehun. Got it?”_

_By the time they went out of the apartment building, Sehun had already clasped the reaper’s hand back._

 

Going out with Sehun had proven to be rather problematic since people were naturally attracted to his look. Even with basic white tee and faded blue bomber jacket that Zitao believed belong to a generation twenty years back (human year, not his), he was beautiful—ethereal, even.

He had crushed the knuckles of a perverted middle-aged man’s who dared to look at Sehun in all the wrong way and whose hand was starting to grope Sehun’s derriere.

“It’s not your time yet, you old trash. But I can make your death comes a bit early if you like.”

Sehun, fortunately, stayed oblivious.

“Are we going to meet them, Zitao?” Sehun asked when they got off from the train; hand was back in the reaper’s firm hold.

“Who?”

“The person you want to hug and tell them that everything is okay?”

Zitao stopped in his track to look at his Assignment’s face. There was something in those eyes that Zitao wasn’t sure how to decipher, or if he read them wrong.

“I don’t know, Sehun. Maybe.”

Zitao pretended not to notice how Sehun had slowly pulled back his hand from his grip afterwards.

 

 

* * *

 

The face Lu Han made when Zitao entered the coffee shop with Sehun in tow was priceless. He hoped that he had brought a camera to capture his expression before he realised he didn’t have one. His husband, on the other hand, was nothing short of warm and welcoming.

“Hello!” Minseok flashed his trademark grin and Sehun bowed.

“Hello, my name’s Oh Sehun.”

Zitao saw Minseok was about to open his mouth before the entire coffee shop heard a shrill, disturbing as it was deafening ‘aigoo’ that only dogs could hear.

“Look at this sweet, sweet, young man.” The wavy-haired man-kid cooed at Sehun, even went a little overboard by ruffling his not-blond-anymore hair. Sehun blinked confusedly and his cheeks reddened. Perhaps it was because he had never received so much attention before or maybe he was just terrified with an overly friendly ahjumma that was Lu Han.

But it was endearing still.

Minseok gave them their orders (plus free macarons for Sehun because ‘sweet boy deserves sweet goodies’) and Lu Han proceeded to ask about Sehun’s everything; how old he was, how he could be so handsome and yet so cute, where he lived, and how he even knew Zitao when the latter was just an emo garbage who didn’t deserve Sehun’s presence.

“And Zitao had been acting like he was some eligible bachelor who was all business and didn’t have time for anything romantic.”

Sehun’s eyes watered as he struggled to swallow his second macaron.

“I’m not… he’s—uh, we aren’t like that. He can’t. I don’t think we can.”

Lu Han pursed his lips and slapped Sehun’s knee lightly.

“Is it a thing now, Baozi?” he shouted at his husband who was talking with Zitao, probably about some boring stuff they stupidly found interesting, if their serious faces told him anything.

Minseok paused to answer him. “What is?”

“Dating a person who is just as vague as you?”

His husband laughed. “Stop harassing the poor kid and help me retrieve the mugs from the storage room.”

It was only after Lu Han begrudgingly left him on his own devices could Sehun eat and drink in peace.

“How did you know them?” Sehun asked curiously.

Zitao grimaced. “It’s such a bad luck, isn’t it?”

“Why is it a bad luck? Don’t you see how they look at you? Don’t you feel how sincere they treat you?” Sehun smiled wistfully. “They see you as their little brother.”

“Whenever Lu Han-ge nags at me, I can feel it.” Zitao snorted; the slightest hint of smile on his face.

Sehun giggled and it strangely had made Zitao want to chuckle himself.

He kept watching the jolly boy eating his confectioneries when something caught the corner of his eye. He turned his head to his left and there he was, his best friend who just arrived at work.

Zitao focused again on his Assignment.

“Sehun,” he said. He took the mug from Sehun’s hand and put it on the table. “I need you to see someone.”

Sehun blinked and Zitao could practically hear the ‘click’ sound in his head when the blond’s face turned somber. “The person you want to hug?”

Why was it that he chose to hold onto that one word?

“You see that Subway outlet across the street?”

Zitao stopped a moment to see if Sehun followed. He did.

“Can you see that one employee? The one who was wrapping a sandwich for the blue-haired customer? That’s him. That’s who I was talking about.”

 

 

* * *

 

“He’s beautiful.”

“Who? Jongin?”

“Mm.”

Zitao fixed his gaze at Sehun’s side profile. The boy was slightly tilting his head up, letting afternoon breeze caressed his face and blew at his hair playfully. Soft colour orange casted faint shadows that fell on his cheekbone, highlighting his features that made him even more breathtaking. His eyes were closed and they were sitting so close, shoulder to shoulder, that Zitao could count his lashes.

“I guess he is.” Zitao returned his attention to the sunset in the horizon.

Soon after Sehun had drunk the last drop of Minseok’s incredible hot chocolate and eaten the last bite of his green tea macaron, Zitao pulled him on his feet to go to their next destination for the day.

Sehun didn’t ask how he knew about this place but he had stopped asking him questions since they stepped out of Minseok’s coffee shop. Sehun only followed obediently. They had walked in a way they once had on their first weeks as Reaper and its Assignment; a good (or two) step from each other and almost not talking.

Sometimes Zitao would steal a view of Sehun through the glass windows of cafés and restaurants that scattered around Ilsan and saw him not even looking around and only stared ahead with his expressionless face.

“Hey, Zitao?”

Zitao hummed.

“I’m sorry for being such a sourpuss earlier. It ruined the mood. I don’t know why I was like that.”

Zitao only shrugged, though he remained skeptical.  _You don’t know?_

Ilsan Lake Park was desolated at this time of the day. People would rather go straight to  _noraebang_  or nearest  _pojangmacha_  to drink their life away than sitting by the lake, enjoying the sunset and how it painted the skies with the softest coral hues and reflected on the rippling water surface.

“Don’t you want to ask me questions?”

Sehun threw a pebble and it fell into the water with soft ‘plung’.

“I don’t know how many I could ask without disturbing you.”

“No, you don’t. But you can try.”

He heard Sehun chuckle.

“Okay. How did you get the money for all of these? Do reapers have allowance?”

Zitao almost laughed at how naïve Sehun surprisingly sounded.

“Not allowance, per se. You see. This is one of many virtues of being a reaper. We don’t have money, not exactly. We just, oh… This is difficult. How do I explain without sounding weird? We are basically spiritual beings. If we want to have something from anywhere that is not our world, all we need to do is to spill just a speck of dust of our spirit and put them into something worldly.”

Sehun furrowed his brow. “And then it becomes money? Our money?”

“It doesn’t just  _turn_  into money, which will be freaky, even to us.”

“Then what are the other virtues?”

“We don’t feel things that will demand us to do something. Like, we don’t get sleepy, but we can sleep all year if we want. We don’t feel hungry, but we can eat tons and tons of rice and not die afterwards. Same goes with thirst. Also, we don’t get hurt.”

“You don’t?”

Zitao offered his uncovered palm to Sehun.

“You can scratch this with something and I won’t feel any pain. Go on, you can test it.”

“You’re crazy. I won’t do that,” Sehun took the hand and pushed it to Zitao’s chest. “I believe you.”

The sun was getting lower and lower but neither said anything about going back to Seoul.

“Are you sure you don’t want to ask about Jongin?”

“Can I?”

“Jongin was actually a reaper.”

He didn’t bother to look at Sehun’s reaction because he knew exactly what it would be and how his face would look like.

“What happened?”

“Love did.”

To tell Sehun the story would be a tiring feat, emotionally. So Zitao laid down and spread his arms like an eagle and before long, he started.

“He assisted this one high school student, is how this story starts. I don’t know his name because reapers do not privy on a humans' information if they aren’t their Assignments. But from what Jongin had told me when I visited him, his Assignment was a star student.” He looked up into Sehun’s eyes and smiled. “Just like you.”

“Was his Assignment a target of bullying too?” Sehun joked.

Zitao didn’t find it funny.

“No, but he was sick. Very sick. He suffered from a brain cancer. His life was basically the fingers on your limbs and he knew that. So maybe meeting Jongin wasn’t that surprising for him.”

Sehun joined him, laying on his side on the bed of grass. Zitao felt his Assignment’s eyes solely on him and he felt warmth radiating from the frail body next to him.

“Was Jongin kind of an ass, too?”

He couldn’t help it so Zitao laughed.

“No, he wasn’t. Jongin had never been one. He treated his Assignments as his equal, friends even. We had been worried by this because his behavior could lead into a hindrance from doing our job. But after hundreds of years being Jongin, he had always been able to do the task, efficiently. So the apprehension finally ceased.”

Zitao inhaled deeply and it brought to his olfactory the smell of a baby and something else, something familiar that was distinctly Sehun’s.

“Jongin kept doing his thing with his last Assignment but we were no longer concerned and passed this as the usual case. We didn’t even blink an eye when Jongin brought this ridiculously delicious lemon cake baked by his Assignment and demanded us not to leave even just a bite of it. Of course, it was just Jongin being Jongin and besides, the cake was heavenly so why not.”

“We didn’t even complain when Jongin had begun to absent from our regular gathering in exchange for accompanying his Assignment to his treatment. But when we realised he had started to bring with him the picture of his Assignment and him together anywhere, we felt the old uneasiness arise.”

Zitao remembered Jongin had never showed it openly, the picture. He himself found it by accident and when he corroborated it with the reaper himself, Jongin only uttered a short and ominous ‘don’t ask about it’. He and and Baekhyun reminded him that even by his standards, Jongin had slowly crossed the boundaries and that should be a red sign worth to note.

“But then Jongin started to cry.”

Baekhyun had cried with him, maybe even louder.

“And me? I was angry—no.  I was  _livid_.” Zitao paused, waiting for the resentment that had rooted deeply and had years and years to grow to rear its ugly head. But instead, he felt nothing. Regret, yes. Sadness, obviously.

But not resentment.

“Why were you?” puff of warm breath hit his cheek softly and Zitao unconsciously closed his eyes.

“Because I knew then that he’d leave, that he’d abandon all the privileges of being what he was, that he’d abandon his friends— _us_. I was angry because he did this to himself and didn’t even seem to regret it. But most of all, I was angry because I knew I wouldn’t be able to stop him from doing what he was going to do.”

He heard rustling from his left where Sehun was no longer laying on his side. He looked above, to the dark sky, now that the sun had fully set.

“You were blaming him for falling in love when it’s the last thing one could hold a control over.” Sehun concluded.

“When you don’t understand something, Sehun, you’ll start to put blame on anything but yourself.”

Sehun grunted an agreement.

“What happened to the Assignment, then?”

“Jongin denied him his death. I believe he’s living his life happily now, don’t know where. And before you ask, yes, we can do that. Reapers have the Life on their hands but to give it to another entity is the cardinal sin.”

“And by giving the dying Assignment the Life, you become a human?”

“It’s the punishment.”

“Being human is the punishment?” Sehun laughed hollowly.

“Being human is the most severe punishment,” Zitao corrected Sehun’s wording.  “You’re surrounded by feelings and driven by them; is there anything worse than that? You’ll get tired, you’ll be sad, you’ll get hurt… physically and mentally. You’ll struggle, you’ll be judged, you’ll get rejected… Is that not the worst? Take Adam and Eve from human’s tale, then. Exiled from the Heaven and living as mortals, did they rejoice? Didn’t they regret their decision?”

Zitao didn’t hear anything from Sehun’s mouth he thought he fell asleep, but he was wrong.

“But you get to feel something wonderful, Zitao. Being human is not that scary and unfortunate.”

“Something wonderful like what? Love?” He had predicted his rhetorical question would carry so much scorn in it but now after hearing it himself, he wasn’t so sure.

Again, Sehun took his sweet time to respond, allowing them the wonderful noises of crickets and the wind rustling the grass.

But his retort never came.

“Sehun?”

“Was Jongin the first?”

Zitao furrowed his brow. He was pretty sure Jongin wasn’t the first or even the second, but he didn’t know much about it.

“No, he wasn’t. As far as the rumours go, there had been some cases but the most popular one is of these reapers’ because instead of Assignment, they fell in love with each other.”

Sehun’s chest rumbled with laughter. “How convenient.”

“Yeah,” Zitao frowned. “Except it wasn’t. We can’t do things like those, Sehun. We don’t mate or our existence will be erased entirely. We will disappear and we don’t even have the possibility of being reborn into human, or even reincarnated into anything else.

So the twin, that’s how we call them by the way, because it’s said even their name sounded similar to each other, knowing that they couldn’t be what they desired to be, had chosen to abnegated their immortality. The Elders said they both sliced their wrists with a dagger that has been tarnished by human’s blood.”

Sehun’s eyes narrowed in skepticism.

“That’s really the way?”

It could be just that, an old tale, because the story had existed way before Zitao was a full-fledged Reaper, but maybe it held some truth in it. Besides, he was pretty sure there was a way to give up your immortality but not by slicing your wrist.

“I don’t know. It’s a tale, afterall.”

There was a move from where Sehun laid down. Zitao shifted a bit and he saw Sehun lifted one of his arms and make a grabby hand, as if he was going to reach the stars and catch them.

“Did Jongin not search for his Assignment, then? I mean, they’re both of the same kind now.”

It was Zitao's turn to laugh.

“That’s also the part of the punishment; because the Assignment will not remember anything about the reaper who had assisted him while the reaper? He get to keep all the memories.”

Sehun bated his breath.

“You see now why we call this a ‘punishment’? Jongin has to remember and feel the heart break, the pain of losing, all by himself.”

“That is so cruel.”

Zitao turned and found Sehun’s face just an inch from his. His eyes were glassy and then, a drop of tear glided on the bridge of his nose.

“Don’t cry, Sehun.”

There was a powerful pull resulted from seeing Sehun’s tear that he didn’t even have the time to reconsider if it was appropriate to touch that face; the face that was glistening with dew, so soft to the touch and felt like purity.

Sehun cried even harder upon feeling Zitao’s thumb softly wiped the tears on his face.

“I pray and hope none of you will ever experience what Jongin had.” Sehun looked pointedly. But there was also something in his eyes that made him know that he was struggling inside and Zitao could see it was killing him.

Sehun looked so sad, so torn, so beautiful. There was a dream, a fear, a plea in the way he looked at Zitao and all of the sudden, he couldn’t breathe because his heart was filled with so many things and he was suffocated.

“Yes, let’s pray and hope for that.” Zitao murmured.

Sehun let out a sob and Zitao thought,  _‘is this what heart break feels like?’_ He gazed at Sehun's eyes, Sehun's nose, Sehun's  _everything._

As his lips touched Sehun’s in the faintest of touch, he finally understood, for the first time, about what had happened to Jongin and when they parted their lips, Zitao looked up to see Sehun’s face glistening with even more tears.

“Thank you,” he whispered. “Thank you, Zitao.”

Zitao wanted to say something but then he felt a dull throb in his covered hand. He pulled back a bit to take a look on it and there he saw it; Sehun’s life thread. It was dimmed and instead of vibrant red, it was now almost pink and was slowly losing its warmth.

Sehun’s Time was nearing.

And for the first time since Jongin’s departure, Zitao shed tears. Sehun looked at him questioningly, lips were red and wet but eyes were the brightest Zitao had ever witnessed them.

He swallowed down his own sob as he pulled the back of Sehun’s head to kiss him again, this time in despair.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I planned this fic to be a four-part story but then I realised you'd have a billion words per chapter and no one would want that. So I changed it to 5, including the epilogue. Thank you for leaving kudos, comments, and reading my fic :D


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